Rise
by katieforpresident
Summary: Harry struggles with stability years after the war is over, but Ginny always guides him back to safety. Oneshot.


Inspired by the beautiful song "Rise Up" by Andra Day. Give it a listen while you read this for maximum feels.

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter world does not belong to me; nor does "Rise Up."

* * *

 _You're broken down and tired_

The cobblestone street was narrow and winding. Buildings towered on each side, glowering down on Harry as he quickened his pace. The gloomy, overcast sky did little to cheer him up. In fact, it was a quite accurate sign of his mood. The day had been a long one, starting with a fight with Ginny and only going downhill from there. They had received yet another letter from Albus. He wasn't happy at Hogwarts. Ginny ached with her son, wanting Albus to be happy, and argued with Harry that they should send for Albus to come home immediately. Harry knew that home would be no better for the boy. Albus was prone to losing himself in his own head, and there was nothing either Harry or Ginny could do about it.

Yet they continued to argue. Sometimes it was over Albus, sometimes it was over his job, sometimes it was over what time of day was best to de-gnome the gardens. Ginny insisted it was best to do it during daylight, when the gnomes would have somewhere else to go. Harry would rather do it at dusk, so the gnomes couldn't see where they had come from. But it didn't matter, in the end. They always ended up back in the same place.

He pulled his trenchcoat tighter to himself, rubbed his glasses on his sleeve, and quickened his pace towards home.

 _Of living life on a merry-go-round_

He woke up in a sweat so thick he thought he was underwater. Distant flashes of green glowed under his eyelids as he sat up, gasping for air. He reached to his left, floundering for the comfort of Ginny. His hands came back empty.

He convinced himself the dampness on his face was the sweat. Reaching over the edge of the creaky four poster bed, he grabbed the stack of pillows Ginny had carefully piled within arm's reach. One by one, he tucked the pillows under the comforter until they began to resemble his wife.

"Nox," he whispered. The light that shone every time he jerked awake dimmed, and Harry fell back into an uneasy sleep.

 _And you can't find the fighter_

"I'm _fine_!" Harry's voice was so loud he was sure the windows were going to break.

"Stop!" Ginny's voice was shrill and frantic. "Stop saying that everything is okay! Stop acting like you are fine! You need to take care of this. You need to take care of- of yourself…" Her voice broke and Harry watched in paralyzed horror as her eyes steadily filled with tears. Her posture didn't change; she stayed standing tall, her hair an angry, glowing halo. But Harry saw the defeat creeping in.

He hated himself, in that moment. He hated his inability to fix his own goddamn problems. He hated himself for letting his past take control of his present. He hated that his fierce, strong Ginny was breaking under the pressure of being with him.

The table rattled as he pushed himself away. Some broth splashed out of his bowl and scalded his fingers. His eyes briefly met Ginny's and then he turned, burning inside and out, and disappeared out the door.

 _But I see it in you so we gonna walk it out_

When the first envelope came, he ripped it up. He loathed himself still – for ruining so many lives by simply existing in his own misery. He told himself that he didn't deserve anything else now. He knew he had brought it upon himself.

 _And move mountains_

The second envelope came while he was out. He returned to the Leaky Cauldron late at night, slightly tipsy and missing one shoe. In his state, the handwriting on the envelope was enough to break him down. He sunk onto the threadbare quilt, feeling angry and relieved and weary and hopeful.

In the envelope was a clipping from the _Daily Prophet._ It was dated to the week before. Harry had been avoiding the news at all costs. He didn't need to read about how "Former Boy Who Lived Leaves Ministry in Dishonorable Leave." However, this clipping had nothing to do with him. The title of the article was "Hogwarts to Implement New Hippogriff Breeding Program," and pictured underneath the bold heading, amongst a sea of awestruck students, was a majestic looking hippogriff. Harry knew immediately why the article was sent, and he gazed at the familiar face beaming eagerly out of the crowd. _Albus_.

With a slight hiccup, Harry lay the picture gently next to his wand and glasses on the table next to him. A moment later, he was asleep.

 _We gonna walk it out_

When he walked in the door, the first thing that hit him was the smell. It was a perfume of home cooking, cleaning potion, and Ginny's hand cream. Harry let one shudder of relief pass through him at the sight of his place mat set up at the table – if albeit a little dusty looking – before hanging his coat on the coatrack and heading toward the stairs.

Ginny stirred as he slipped into the room, despite his best efforts to stay silent. Harry's throat swelled as he watched her sleeping, her chest rising and falling at half the speed of his own hitched breaths. His eyes traveled to the scroll hanging above the bed, inscribed with their marriage vows. And then he looked down again, and knew, more than the vows or table setting could have told him, that she ached for him too. On the right side of the bed, under the comforter, he could make out the shape of five or six pillows, plumped and arranged just so.

 _And move mountains  
_

She didn't even yell at him. Not when she awoke, not during breakfast. In fact, she didn't yell that entire day. Nor the day after that or the day after that. She hugged him when she saw him that morning after he came home. It was a desperate hug, a hug of relief and anger. Harry crumpled into her, and her fury was gone. She held him until he was done crying, and then kissed him, and then walked him to the shower. When he got out, he could smell the porridge she was cooking and the berries she was crushing.

She told him about the kids during breakfast. James was causing trouble, Lily was smitten with a boy, and Albus had finally found his niche at Hogwarts. Harry didn't tell her about the dark places he visited in his absence. Instead, he lost himself in his wife's bright eyes, in her soothing stories about their three children, and in the sense of being home that he had missed so much. _  
And I'll rise up  
I'll rise like the day  
I'll rise up  
I'll rise unafraid  
I'll rise up  
And I'll do it a thousand times again  
And I'll rise up  
High like the waves  
I'll rise up  
In spite of the ache  
_

It was late at night. The stars glittered through the windows of the bedroom, casting a gentle dancing light onto the old comforter. Harry rolled over into Ginny, bumping her softly until she stirred.

"Harry…" she murmured, sleep clouding her voice.

Harry brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. She blinked slowly and rolled into his arms.

"Ginny," he whispered.

"Harry," she whispered back.

"Ginny."

"Harry." A smile creased her face.

"Ginny." He tightened his arms around her, and she snuggled into him. He yanked the blanket over their heads and Ginny dissolved into sleep-induced giggles, and he caught her laughter and soon they were both shuddering with mirth. When the fit subsided, Harry tugged a lock of Ginny's hair, still grinning broadly. In the dim light in their blanket fortress, he could barely make out the glow of her eyes.

"Ginny."

"Yes Harry?" Her voice was amused.

"I love you." He was still smiling widely.

"I know," she said, and he realized that she was telling the truth.

She knew he loved her. And by some miracle, she loved him back, and would never ever stop. By Merlin, neither would he.

 _I'll rise up  
And I'll do it a thousand times again  
For you_


End file.
